Destined
by BeastlyRedemption
Summary: "Destined for the gods." People whisper about her. "Modern day Achilles. Destined for glory." In which a girl who is born with a scathing grin and a penchant for fighting moves to Forks and meets a family with a penchant for blood, and somewhere along the way, she falls in love with a blonde who has been at the mercy of destiny before. This time is no exception. Rosalie / Bella.
1. Cedere Nescio

_"O Achilles, you were never made a god, but you were remembered. You were remembered." - voidkraken (tumblr)_

* * *

Fire rips through her veins, setting her teeth on edge, each hair on her arms standing at attention. He dances in front of her, quick on his feet, despite his height. He's smirking, wild and uncharted, unchecked.

And Bella plans to check him.

He steps forward first, right foot in front of his left, he's a southpaw. He strikes. Once, twice. But Bella's already calculated these moves, eyes darting quickly between his hands, feet, where his eyes look. Jacob's always been predictable. She's quick to rock out of the way, quick to slide her fist towards his rib cage. There's a crack when she makes contact, a quiet hiss falls between his teeth as he takes a knee.

She dances back, lets him catch his breath. Her own chest heaves in four-four timing. Jacob stands, fist rising back to guard his face. He nods at her, hair coming undone from his hair tie.

"Let's go!"

So she goes.

One, two, three. A deadly dance that she's well versed in. Fakes a stab to his right, another to his left. He goes to block both of them, and he's not fast enough to get his gloves to his face before Bella lands a hook on the edge of his jaw bone. Even through the glove, her hand aches. Jacob's head snaps back, head gear flying off, rolling, rolling on the ground.

Behind her, a whistle blows. "That's time!"

Sighing, Bella unclasps her gloves, removing her headgear, rubbing at the imprints left on her cheeks, and walks to where Jacob sits on the floor of the ring, starry eyed and dazed.

"Hey," She bends down, takes his hand. "You doing okay?"

He doesn't say anything for a long moment, and Bella's worried she's given him a concussion. Then, "That was a sick right hook, Bells."

She grins, a quick flash of teeth against the flesh of her lip, hot and wild and when she says "Wasn't it?" She hopes it comes out cocky sounding, and when he groans, she knows that it did. He grasps her hand tighter, and she works to pull him up, mouth curling in mild disgust towards the sweat rolling off his back. "You gonna make it, bud?"

Jacob laughs, brown eyes dark and sparkling and filled with the same excitement that burns through her core, the same excitement that calls her to this sport, makes her come back each and every time. It's addicting, for sure - a dangerous drug that's killed so, so many before, one that's made its players believe they were destined go down in history. "Yeah, I feel fine."

Bella looks up, her father is standing behind the ropes, Billy Black at his side and he's laughing. "That sure was a beating."

"Ease up, dad." Jake sighs, head lolling to the side, a red tint to his cheeks. "She's an Olympian." He continues, by way of explanation.

Smiles, again, shakes her head. "You fought well." And this is true, he had. He's quick on his feet, knew to react to her shifting in weight. A skill it took most boxers years and years to learn to do. "Maybe, when you're feeling better, we can spar again?"

Jake is quick to smile back at her, teeth blunt and white and Bella is reminded just how young Jacob really is. "For sure." He rubs the back of his neck, looking sheepish when he asks her, "Thanks for letting me, and all."

"Thank you for being my partner today." Bella soothes, softly, catalogs the vibrant blush that rushes up his neck, the tips of his ears. He nods, fiddling with the velcro of his gloves. Her dad looks towards Jake's flushed cheeks, turns her way, raises his eyebrows and crinkles his nose, careful to be out of view of the young boy, not wanting to embarrass him any more. Bella stops herself from giggling by biting the inside of her lip, and she's quick to gather her bag, nodding when Charlie asks if she's riding home with him.

"Looks like somebody has a crush." Charlie grins, pointing his thumb behind his shoulder and towards the studio, taking Bella's bag off her shoulder, carrying it for her.

"Dad," Bella rolls her eyes. "Give him a break. He's right, he fought an Olympian today and didn't do half bad. That's exciting, don't you think? Imagine getting to tell your friends _that_, disregarding the fact that he's talking about me." She waits a second. "_I_ would be excited."

"Sometimes," Charlie sighs, "I'm not sure if you're humble or just so cocky that my brain blanks whenever you praise yourself."

"Probably a bit of both."

Another sigh. But he smiles through it.

Greens and browns pass by in blurs, and Bella remembers harsh reds and browns passing by, how hot the desert had been the day she left.

_"I love you, my glittering star." Renée grins, brushing some of Bella's hair behind her ears. "I want you to call me as soon as you land, okay?" _

_A camera flashes in her eyes, white light blinding. "Bella! Look here!" Comes a call from a man, diving between people, trying to get the best shot. "Over here, sweetheart! Give us that beautiful smile!" Another flash, and it takes all the will power in the world to keep a straight face, sneer threatening to break out. She settles for clenching her jaw, instead. _

_"Mom." Voice low and careful, aware of the phones recording. "How did reporters know about me leaving?" When her mother doesn't answer, it's all Bella needs to know. _

_"Tell me you didn't." Bella pleads, still, desperation leaking out, watching the cold shift in Renée's eyes. "Tell me you didn't call them and let them know." _

_"Okay, easy. I didn't." Her mother's voice is cold and cruel, and it promises nothing but lies. At Bella's glower, she shrugs. "You told me to tell you I didn't, not tell you the truth." _

_"God, are you kidding me? I couldn't have one day to myself, to say goodbye to my family and friends, without you trying to gain publicity out of it?" _

_"Keep your voice down Isabella, and smile." Renée's own smile locks in place, hands coming to grip her shoulders just a little too hard to be comforting. "The world is watching." _

_Bella mustered a small smile, removing herself from her mother's grip, grabbing her backpack to board. "I'll text you when I land." A camera flashes, once, twice, three times before she's able to get on the plane. _

Charlie had been ecstatic, of course, when she'd called and asked if she could move there with him, at least for the school year. He'd unequivocally said yes with such excitement she could feel it through the phone. It had been after her match. The _big one._ The one that would decide whether or not she would take a gold medal home with her. And she did, large and gold and it burned her when they placed it around her neck, leaving an imprint for all to see.

_"Destined for the stars." _People whispered about her after that. _"Destined for the gods." _

Her mother threw a party a day after, loud and large and filled to the brim with booze and drugs she wasn't allowed to have, wasn't interested in having. When she could, she slipped out, leaving to her room.

Victory had taken a lot out of her, a lot more than she realized it would. Thumbing the fresh plastic covering her new tattoo, five rings on the side of her ribcage - the markings of an Olympian - she called her dad, knew it was twelve in the morning there, knew he had to get up for work in a few hours. But she called, and when he answered, voice soft and gruff, she burst into tears.

"God, dad." She whispered into the dark, face wet and red. "I've wasted… so much. My entire life, I've wasted for what? For a gold medal?" She hiccuped. "For the right to get a tattoo that every other Olympic athlete has? For what? For what?"

"Bells," she can tell he was frowning through the phone. "You love boxing, you have your entire life." A pause. "Maybe you need to take a break."

"A break." She echoed, eyes watching the TV. On the screen was her, sweating but hot and vibrant with the taste of victory. She recalled how hard it had been for her to smile after the fact, after her final blow, it shook the entire ring when her opponent slammed against the ground. The applause had been thunderous."And, you'd let me? Come to Forks, I mean."

"God, yes, Bella. You don't even have to ask."

So she didn't.

Renée had laughed out loud when Bella told her she was planning to move to Forks for her senior year, laughed louder when Bella told her she already bought the plane tickets to do so.

"Don't be ridiculous." Her mother chuckled again, wiping the tears from her eyes. "You have so much scheduled over the next few months. Everybody wants to fight an Olympic athlete."

"Oh, I'm being completely serious, mom." Bella stood taller, easily a whole head taller that Renée. "I'm going to Forks. I need a break."

"A break?" Renée's eyes opened wider, scandalized. "My diamond girl, you don't get to take a break. You're at the height of your career. If anything, we should be talking about the next summer Olympics."

"You're delusional."

"I have made you a _god_, Isabella." The cold facade that had usually taken up her mother's face finally broke, shatters into an unforgiving frown. Her mother is nowhere to be seen under this visage. "You are on every news outlet front page, you are all anybody is talking about. I have done that for _you_ and _you_ do _not _get to throw in that towel early just because you're a little tired."

"I never _asked_ to be put on that pedestal!" Bella's collected voice broke, too, she's gesturing wildly with her hands when she spoke next. "I have given up everything to be your star. I have forfeited relationships with my friends, I have skipped school for matches, I have spent years of my life for training, for blood and tears, and all it's ever gotten me is attention I don't want and a mother that I don't recognize anymore!" Her words were bullets, and they hit their mark, busting through flesh, blood splattering against the walls. Renée held her hand over her chest, eyes staring hard and disbelieving at Bella. She had flinched under her mother's gaze, opening her mouth to apologize, closes it when she realizes she's not actually sorry.

They stood in silence for a few minutes, Bella's hard breathing the only sound in the room.

"You ungrateful, spoiled girl." When Bella didn't dignify that with a response, she continues. "Maybe it is a good idea for you to go. Obviously all this fame and glory has made you crazy."

One of the compromises had been one last interview, to show the public she didn't plan to quit boxing, her mother said, with a quick roll of her eyes, a grim, dangerous set to her mouth.

_"I heard you're moving." _

_"Ah, I just figured that it's my senior year, I should focus on that, you know?" _

_"Of course." The interviewer, paused, flipping a page over. "When we talked to you last, you were a world class champion about the enter the games. Now you're an Olympic athlete and you have quite the following! How did it feel to win?" _

_Bella's smile freezes in place, a skill she's learned from Renée. "Like all my hard work has finally paid off. It's an honor," she continues, "to hold this title. I'm excited for future matches and for the potential to enter the games again." Well rehearsed lines she's spoken to herself in the mirror the night before. The world would be watching, and they would clock any shift in her grin the moment it happened. Renée would never forgive her for that. _

_"You're being hailed a modern day Achilles, a god, even. How do you feel about that?" _

_Bella had laughed and laughed and laughed. _

Charlie shakes her, pulling her back down to earth with him. They're parked in the driveway, and he's smiling at her confused glance. "You doze off?"

"No," Bella shakes her head. "I guess I just zoned out." That was the nice thing about living with Charlie and about living in Forks. So much room to think, so much room to be able to drop pretenses, at least for a little while.

Inside the house is barren, something that surprises her each time she enters. It hadn't looked like this in her childhood, it has always been bright colors and pictures hanging from the halls and Charlie's guitar used to be in the corner, and for years and years and years they had kept up pictures that Bella scribbled from Kindergarten up on the fridge. Now, no pictures adorn the walls. Now, the guitar had been put up and away and the stainless steel of the fridge glistens by itself. This is the effect Renée has on people. Loves and loves them so much that when she leaves, she leaves behind a hallow corpse of somebody that used to know how to love, used to know to smile.

That's what happened with Charlie. He had loved, loved Renée so much that when she packed up in the middle of the night, had taken Bella by the hand, sleepy eyed and still in pajamas, Charlie never saw it coming. For months, years, the bottom of the bottle had been his companion. It got better, at least, when Bella started to fight. His little girl a title holding champion. When she came to visit for some summers, Billy always teased her dad, complained about how instead of football games, Bella's matches always took control of the TV. She had even heard rumors from his partner at the police department that Charlie had also changed the channels to her fights anytime that it happened during the day. And if they got called away, Charlie made sure to record them.

"Oh, god." Bella yawns, eyeing the clock on the face of the microwave. "I'm going to be late - I need to go shower, like, now."

"Late?" Charlie's eyebrows furrow in confusion. "For what? For school?" At her equally as confused silence, he continues. "Even after your training this morning?"

"Yeah?"

"Does Renée really make you go? Even after that?"

"Oh, for sure." Bella nods, stilling, taking in his hopeful expression.

"I just," He pauses, takes a deep breath in and then, "Well, never mind."

"What, dad?"

"I just figured that we were going to hang out today. I took the day off."

_Oh. _"Dad." Bella gnaws on her lip. "Mom would kill you if she found out you started to let me skip school each time I had practice."

Charlie seems to take some time to consider this, moving around the kitchen in search for breakfast. He comes out victorious with a cartoon of eggs and a bag of cheese in his hand. "Yeah, you're right." He chuckles then, too, starting up the stove. "Okay, go shower. We still have this weekend."

* * *

Angela is waiting for her in her car when Bella pulls in, smile small and soft, a pleasant greeting.

"Hey, Angela." Bella grins, shrugging her bag over her shoulders. "How's your morning been?"

"Awful. I almost didn't get out of bed today."

"Didn't sleep well last night?" Frowning, Bella walks with her towards the front doors of the school. It wasn't uncommon for Angela to not sleep at all - hours and hours of homework plagued her dreams and in the end she often got too stressed out to get some real sleep.

Angela shrugs, then her smile turns teasing. "Saw that you were at the boxing studio this morning."

"Saw..?"

Angela pulls out her phone, and on the front of Forks Daily News's mobile site is herself, smirking wicked and wild, fists flying towards Jacob. The title under the image read as _"Boxing champion Isabella Swan's early morning routine with new sparring partner." _

"God," Bella yanks the phone from her hands, stopping in her tracks. "How? This was posted an hour ago." An indignant pause. "I was there an hour ago!"

"Who's that guy you're sparring with? A new lover?" Angela's voice drops, and Bella whips around to look at her, finds a blush on her cheeks.

"Gross, Angela."

"Gross? Look at those _muscles._"

Bella groans, fingers pinching the bridge of her nose. When will she ever catch a break? It seems like the answer is never. "He's young." Is this a thing normal teenaged girls do? Drool over any guy that has an inkling of a six pack?

"How young is young?"

"Like, fifteen."

"_What?_" Angela pulls her phone closer to her face, zooming in on the picture, and Bella resumes walking. "There's no way. He's gotta at least be over six-four."

"He's six-five." Bella nods, holding the door open for her. "But he's also fifteen."

"That's so… sad." Angela pouts, throwing her phone into her purse. "I can't ever escape these white boys at this school, it seems." A melodramatic hand on her forehead, and Bella laughs and laughs.

Bella, true to her word, had been late. It worked out today that Angela didn't have a first period, but Bella's first period had been government - a class she really needed to have. The halls are empty now, students already in their second period classes. Sighing, Bella waves a quick bye to Angela, promises to catch up with her at lunch.

Biology, so far, had proved to be challenging, to say the least. The course work hadn't been an issue, she learned a lot of the basics from her home school in Arizona. The biology teacher even made sure that he explained things clearly. No, it wasn't the course work, Bella thinks walking into the room, it was the people. Or, more specifically, it had been a single person.

He sits now, and Bella can see the way that his shoulders are taut, how his jaw sits clenched. His eyes are dark, too, looking very similar to her first day of school.

Edward had been sitting alone at a table, near the back, when she walked in, hands fumbling around with her new schedule. Almost instantly, his head snapped up, eyes darker than hell, an agonized snarl coming to his lips. In that instant, Bella had cataloged a few things, looking behind and around her to see if anybody else noticed. First, this boy, was undoubtedly glaring at her. His expression akin to pure and unadulterated hatred. That's fine, she thought, she's met people in the ring before who've hated her, have never met her before. So Bella does what she does best.

She smiled. And it's laced with knives and poison but she smiles all the same, and continues walking, setting her stuff down, ignoring how he slides his chair away, a sound coming from deep in his throat.

Secondly, as Bella sat down her stuff, she realized that probably this weirdo sitting next to her was probably the prettiest boy that's ever existed. And this is true, too. With wild, red hair, sharp jaw lines, and gently sculpted lips, easily he was the most attractive male Bella had ever laid eyes on.

"Hello!" She chirped, happy and loud, turning her entire body towards him, smile wide and uncontrolled. "I'm Bella. This is my first day."

The boy, covered his face with his hands and groaned.

"God, you're a little freaky, huh?" Bella continued, smile morphing into a smirk. This is what she did to her opponents in the ring, goading them to talk to her, dragging reaction out of them as if she were pulling teeth. It's considered unprofessional to not greet your opponent, after all, and Bella is nothing if she's not professional. "That's okay, people say I'm a little weird, too."

It had taken the better part of an hour, but eventually the dark eyed boy awkwardly turned towards her, had gritted through his teeth. "Edward."

She kept still, refused to let the shit-eating grin take over her face, even if it hurts her to not gloat. "Hm? Sorry, I can't hear you."

A bated breath and then his voice is much clearer, soft and smooth like velvet. "My name is Edward."

"Oh." She turned his way, unable to hold back her victorious grin. "I thought your name was freaky boy."

Now, she rolls her eyes and quickly walks towards her seat. "Morning, freaky boy. Are we going to go through this again?"

A grunt is her response, along with furrowed eyebrows. She's learned, over the past few months, that he _really, really _doesn't like that name.

"So, I still don't know what your issue with me is." She sighs, gathering some papers that were due the night before. "It's not like I stink - I literally took a shower an hour ago."

Edward is slow to remove his hands from his mouth, and he releases another breath before he opens his mouth to respond. Some days, it was like that with him, slow to respond. But Bella's learned patience through her sport, so she can learn patience through this activity of trying to talk to Edward everyday, as well. "You don't smell bad, Bella." He explains, eyes still an inky black, but he doesn't elaborate.

"Well, I _know_ that."

A slight laugh picks up at his mouth, the sharp points of his canines flashing in the bright fluorescent lights. Slowly, the shade of his eyes lighten. It sounds weird, but Bella's come to expect the mood he's in by the color of his eyes - since freaky boy has two colors that he likes to rotate through. One is the black color she's most familiar with, the other is a golden ochre. She never sees this color, not upfront. But across the small room of the cafeteria, where him and his siblings all sit together, she does, she sees that they all share this color, too.

Bella doesn't have a good explanation for this - chalks it up to him using colored contacts, trying to express himself through something other than clothes, or heavy metal bands like she suspects he actually does listen to and enjoys.

Bella decides she doesn't care, either way. Who is she to judge for how people cope with their own repression? And by the stiff way he holds himself in the halls, she imagines that Edward is very much repressed.

"What I don't understand is why it seems like both you and your siblings hate me." Bella continues after a beat, when it's clear that he wasn't going to offer up another talking piece. "I mean, did I defeat one of your favorite fighters? I understand how that can harbor some hate - especially if you bet a lot of money on them."

"No - well, actually, you may have beaten one of Emmett's." Bella thinks back, recalling the dark haired boy of the family, chest and arms rippling with muscle.

"Does he fight? Emmett, I mean."

Edward shakes his head, odd set to his eyebrows that tells her she's not going to get the answers she wants. This is fine, too, again she doesn't really _care_. She has a lot more to worry about than a group of people with feelings about her that border hostile. "Nobody hates you, from my family, at least, Bella."

"You're wrong." Bella shakes her head, again, she _really doesn't care._ "The first day I walked into the cafeteria, Rosalie glared at me so much I thought she was going to come over and beat my ass."

He's quiet after that.

She'd been exaggerating, only a little, when she said that the entirety of the Cullens hated her. There was one that, for sure, did not.

As the bell calling for the end of second period let out, that one Cullen is quick to find her, with a smile and a wave. Alice, small and sweet, is gorgeous, too. Almost beyond belief. Surprisingly, Bella gets to catch a brief glimpse those jaw-dropping golden irises before they shift quickly to that all too familiar black. Bella pretends not to notice the same strain in her neck that Edward had sported only moments before.

"Bella, Bella!" Alice twirls behind her, stopping in front to catch her hands. "Hello, hello."

"Hey, Alice." Bella's grin is soft when she greets, shoulder drooping in relief. Alice didn't worry Bella like Edward did, didn't make every hair on her body stand on end, didn't make her feel like she was going to have to start fighting at a moments notice. Alice was different, she didn't glare, didn't sneer through her teeth like her boyfriend and her sister had - and still do - but instead, on the first day of the cafeteria when Jessica had been pointing people out, Alice had waved and smiled. A stark contrast to the murderous glances from the other Cullens at the table.

_"Oh, don't mind them." Angela soothed, sighing when Bella flinched from their gazes. "That's just how they look."_

_"I don't mind." Bella picks her fingers up in a semblance of a wave towards the small girl, all the way across the room. "I've fought scarier." She catches the way the biggest boy at the table had started laughing and how the glower from the beautiful blonde girl had deepened. And despite how her eyes and hair and soft length of Rosalie's neck had made Bella's heart jump to beat in double-time, she turned away. _

_She's fought bullies all her life. She wasn't about to let a few teenagers from Podunk, USA bully her. At least, not without a fight. _

"I just had the most exhilarating talk with your brother." Bella opens her locker, sarcasm dripping like rain from her voice, careful to leave enough room for the person beside her.

"Uh-oh." Bella can hear Alice sigh.

"He agreed, for once, that I do not stink."

"Oh, silly, silly, Bella! You never did." Alice giggles, tugging on her hand, growing a little too serious for her face. "In fact, you smell quite, amazingly, good."

"Well," Bella watches the way that Alice's eyes freeze over, staring off into a space she can't see herself, an irritated frown falling over her usual cheery disposition. "That's… good to know. Are you okay, Alice?"

Alice suddenly snaps to attention, gaze cutting across the hall. This space, Bella can see all too well. In this space, the faces of Jasper, Emmett, and Rosalie appear. Jasper's eyes are for Alice, only. And Emmett's got his arms around Rosalie, muscles flexing, bear toothed grin biting out at anybody with enough confidence to look at them for longer than a few seconds. Rosalie's eyes find hers, like magnets slotting into place. And it's the same routine for months now. They make eye contact. Rosalie snarls, teeth sharp and unforgiving, it sends shivers down Bella's back, and in response Bella rolls her eyes - for a moment she considers sticking out her tongue, because that would show her.

"Bye, Bella, Bella!" Alice chirps, skipping down the halls to grab Jasper by the arm, snapping the other's out of their seemingly protective stance.

Rosalie's gaze doesn't break with hers until she's turned around completely. This time, Bella really does stick her tongue out behind the blonde's back.

* * *

One, two, three, four. Thud after thud, her fists connect with the bag, abdomen muscles tight and back pulled straight. Her fists connect, and she draws them right back, dancing around the bag, dodging imaginary punches.

It's crowded in the gym tonight, a lot of police officers, but also a lot of school mates, staring at her in awe. Fire drips from her back, down her legs, her arms. She grunts as she throws hits, hearing the jingle of chains from the ceiling, threatening to come off.

_"Destined for the gods." _She can hear people whisper. _"Destined for victory."_

* * *

**so, here's my crack head fic- **

**i promise im going to work on my other one's soon, i'm going back and forth writing this one and the five others i have... **

**let me know what y'all thought 3**


	2. Ignis Aurum Probat

**In which Bella encounters a wooden horse**

* * *

_" If I am born again, let me be Medusa. Fanged & fierce. I will stand by these sea-cliffs, beat my breast, sing of how no mortal may conquer me. Doesn't matter if I go down by the swing of a sword, for even in death I am the reckoning that turns heroes & cowards alike to stone." - Keaton Michael_

* * *

"Keep your back straight, Isabella."

A grunt falls from her mouth, arms straining beneath her as she pushes herself up, palms slick against the gym floor. "You know what's interesting, mom?" She pushes up, elbows close to her body. The back of her shoulders burn with heat. "You can watch, a thousand miles away, and criticize how I do my push-ups. And yet, you probably haven't tried to do one in twenty years."

From the screen on her computer, her mother frowns, an irritated pluck to her eyebrows. She ignores this, of course."Time for sit-ups." Bella obeys, back against the floor, clad in only a sports bra and a tight pair of shorts that ride up when Bella doesn't need them to.

Her hands go behind her head, breathes out before she presses herself up. "Nice." Her mother praises, thousands of miles away, sipping on a dirty martini, sun in her eyes. Outside the gym window, it rains - as it usually does. "Good form, sweetie." It physically hurts Bella not to roll her eyes. "How's school?" Her mother asks, wanting to avoid the silence, swirling around the martini in her hand. "It feels like we haven't talked for _years._"

This time, Bella doesn't stop the roll of her eyes. "I spoke to you last _week_." Her mother doesn't offer a response, so Bella obliges her. "It's fine, it's school."

"The kids are treating you nicely? Are they fawning over you?" There's an odd, sick, gleam to her eyes when she asks this, almost like she's wanting- no - expecting a yes.

Bella sits up, face meeting her knees, abs pulsing. She grits her teeth, holding that position before slowly letting her body to the floor. "Not as much, now." She admits, faintly recalling how people used to stare after her, whispers behind their hands. "And, for the most part, yes, Forks is very welcoming."

"For the most part?" Renée echoes, a touch of … not concern, not worry, but interest, in her voice. "What do you mean?"

"There are a few kids -" Bella grunts again, nose touching her knee. Back down again. An achingly beautiful face comes to mind, blonde hair gleaming in whatever muted light Forks had to offer. Her snarl, too, comes to the forefront of Bella's mind and she can't help the shiver that reaches down her back. "That are a little testy."

"Speaking of kids." From the side of her eye, Bella can see that Renée is holding up a phone to the screen. She faintly makes out a profile of a person, fist out, the white of the mouth. "I'm following Forks news, too, Bella." This is a disapproving tone that makes Bella roll over onto her stomach and is grateful for the cold of the floor. It's her, that dumb news article that was released. Bella sighs. She should have known it would come back to bite her in the ass.

"That's Jacob Blake, mom. You remember the Blacks, don't you?"

"I remember just fine, Isabella." Her voice is back to that cold front, one that Bella is all too familiar with. "What I'm concerned about is rumors of a love affair coming out."

"Everybody in Forks knows that he's far too young and I'm far too busy." Bella rolls her eyes openly. "Jacob is a _friend_, mom. I'm allowed to have those, the last I checked, at least. "

"You're right. You are far too busy. You need to be focusing on your career, relationships will just get in the way."

Something dark threatens to come out of Bella then, dark and unwanted but completely fair. It would hurt Renée and perhaps that's what she deserves. But Bella, keeps her mouth shut - she's not really in the mood to fight with her mother today, or anytime soon. It just took too much energy out of her.

Unfortunately for her, Renée is a dumbass, and likes to watch her own world burn.

"That's what happened to me, anyway." Her mother sips from her glass, eyes down and looking at her phone, oblivious to the fire rotting its way through Bella veins, down to her teeth. It's like she's taken the words straight from her mouth, twisted them to sound prideful.

"What happened to you? You got too busy or you lost your heart?" It's sharper than Bella knew she was capable of sounding.

Renée sighs, and Bella's muscles stiffen. It looks like she's going to get the fight she didn't want, anyway. "Charlie settled, Isabella. He settled in that dreary place and didn't want anything more." She pauses, eyes the thinly veiled fury on her daughter's face. "If we hadn't left, if I hadn't have gotten you out of that puddle of a town, you would _never_ be what you are now."

Bella's anger is so hot, so consuming that it travels to her eyes, the heat making them tear up. "Charlie _never, never _talks about you like that, mom. He has never said anything unkind about you, even with all that you've done to him." Renée is quiet for a few moments, and when she tries opening her mouth, Bella is quick to cut her off. "_Don't _ say anything else. _Don't you dare._"

Somewhere on Renée's end, someone yells her name, and a startled and scared look passes over her face before she stills it again. "Listen, lovely diamond, I have to go, I'll talk to you soon."

"Wait, mom-" The call ends before she's able to stop her.

Bella sits in suffocating silence, then, arms around her knees, sweat having long dried in her hair. She's sore and cold when she finally stands, watching the sun dip below the horizon. She finds her way towards the punching bags, doesn't bother taping her hands, doesn't bother with her gloves. Bella hits and hits and knees the bag so hard that when it does fly off the clip, when steel chains finally do break, it doesn't surprise her.

She goes into the storage closet, picks up another. Bella destroys three bags before the gym closes, finally.

* * *

There are some pros about living in a small, rainy town, Bella decides, sitting on the couch, watching the fuzz from the TV. It's small, she thinks, standing, stretching out her sore muscles, rubbing her bruised knuckles. That, coupled with the large expanse of trees, the never ending rock formations, allows for her to have a clear mind, to think. And it used to be that she never had time to think. Match after match, gory fight after gory fight, her opponents dripping blood while all her skin stay intact. It was always go, go, go, go, go and never think and think. She had been beaten into an obedient student, casted into a mold - one she's broken her own clavicles and ribs to fit herself into. Bella learned to throw punches that hurt, ones that collapsed grown men, but she's never really learned how to think, how to be by herself.

Charlie's offered that opportunity. Being the Chief of Police had a lot of benefits, but mostly it just meant he was late most nights getting home. Oddly, too, she finds she doesn't mind being alone. She enjoys it, actually. So use to, was she, being in the public eye, shoulders back, smile up, having this persona that she's created and the public loved it. But she's found that she loves the silence echoed around from wall to wall, found that she doesn't miss the flashing of cameras or having to dispute who she's dating or when she's going to start. Forks allowed for that, too, allowed for privacy. Or, as much privacy as a small town with a church on every block could offer.

There are cons, though, so, so many cons to living in Forks, Washington.

One that has been bugging her the most is the gutter outside the front door.

It's been broken for about a month now, coincidentally, it's also been raining for about a month now. Which means nothing except for the fact that anytime she wants to leave the house, she's immediately dosed with water, hair soaking into her shirt. It also means that the panels of the house have new water stains on them that Charlie really isn't sure how to clean. It's also evident that Charlie really doesn't know how to fix a gutter.

At first, he thought that maybe it was an issue with leaves clogging the pathway, and the rain had nowhere else to go but up and over. When he had gotten his latter and looked, he didn't find leaves, instead he found rust, and the metal had rotted so much that he could stick his entire arm through. He had then, stuck his entire arm through, waving at Bella with a grin. She frowned and when he'd come back inside, she remembers asking "How did we never notice that before?"

He tried to fix it with duct tape, the first time around. Large and thick and black and when Bella had worried about the adhesive he shrugged her concerns off. "Bells, they patch _boats_ up with this stuff. It's gonna work."

And it had. For about a week.

On a Friday morning, Bella had slipped on her shoes and coat, grabbed her keys from the bowl near the door, and waved goodbye to Charlie - an English muffin in her mouth. She stepped outside, and immediately water had dumped all over her, soaking through her jacket and getting into her socks. When she told Charlie "I told you so." It was well deserved.

Next, Charlie attacked the gutter with a screw driver and a slate of metal, clearly meant to be some sort of patch.

"No problem, Bella." He gruffed, pulling his pants up higher. "This should hold it over until spring time, when I can actually replace it." He grabbed his coat, and with an air of confidence Bella's wasn't even sure _she's _exuded before, walked back outside and climbs that ladder again. She watched from the window this time, grimacing when the ladder rocks slightly, right to left. He had trouble managing screwing in the metal and keeping his curly hair out of his eyes, but eventually he came down, grin triumphant and it is such a familiar smile that Bella wonders if she's not actually his kid at all.

This, too, had worked. For about three days.

For Charlie, it had been a late Friday night. Bella had been sitting in his "man chair," feet propped up on the coffee table, gorging herself on stale popcorn she had cooked the day before and then forgotten about. She heard the familiar rumble of the police car, and muted the TV, getting ready to move out of his chair when the door opened, and Charlie's greeting had gone from a "Hey, Bells" to an "Oh, fuck!" The tell-tell rumble and sudden gushing let her know that the gutter had broken again.

"Dad?" She called, making her way to the front door, where she saw Charlie on the front step, an impossible amount of water flowing out of the hole from the gutter. It struck Bella as odd, it had really only slightly drizzled that day. What Bella thought was even weirder was when Charlie had stood, turned his face towards the sky and screamed a loud and quick, "Fuck you!"

His response, it seemed, was a clap of thunder and the quick bolt of lightening.

"Jesus, dad." Bella pulled him inside, wearily eyeing the sky. "You can't cuss God out like that."

"Well, I didn't cuss _God_ out…"

They've long since given up on ideas for how to fix the gutter, but even as Bella reads, she can hear the water bursting, slapping mercilessly against the front door. Sighing, she set her copy of the _Iliad _down, resigning herself to the fact that she wasn't going to get any decent reading done today.

It was suppose to be her weekend to spend time with Charlie, but he'd been called in a few hours ago on a robbery. Another con of living in a small town, Bella guesses, they didn't have enough police force to actually let Charlie have a day off. It was a nice thought, though. Her thoughts are interrupted by the distant ringing of her phone.

It's Renée. "Hello? Mom?" It was such a rare occurrence that her mom called her outside of their set communication schedule.

"Hey, dear."

"Uh, hi." Bella chews on her lip, hip pressing against the wall. "Is something wrong?"

"No, no." Renée answers, sounding a little distracted. "Look, I just wanted to call you back after our conversation got cut off the other day, sweetie."

"You hung up."

A pause. "Anyway- No, no, hush, I'm on the phone with my daughter." She hears Renée whisper to someone. "Phil, _stop._" A quiet giggle follows. Bella is floored. Her mother giggling? She thought hell would have frozen over first.

"Phil?" Bella repeats, confused. "Who the fuck is Phil?"

Her mother does what she does best. Ignores her. "Isabella, honey, I just wanted to let you know that there's an opportunity for you to fight again, really soon, actually."

"Mom." Bella blows an irritated groan out of her mouth. "I came to Forks to relax. I don't want to fight 'really soon' okay?"

Renée's voice is quick to turn sour, dropping low and dangerous. "Then you would not be upholding our agreement." She pauses. "And then I'd be forced to fly you back home."

Bella halts her breathing, lets her lungs burn for a few seconds more. She's right, of course. That had been the second compromise. If there was a match that Renée deemed worthy, Bella would agree to fight - no questions asked. So she's quiet, holds her hands against her teeth and bites and bites until the pain becomes too much, pulls her hand away and in her calmest voice, she says. "Who wants to fight me?"

Turns out, Renée is right. It _is _a fight worthy of Bella. What makes it worse is that he had challenged her outright, on public television and on Twitter, as well.

Bella watches the video now. His hair curls tightly around his ears, and his smile is wide and cruel. "People say she's invulnerable." The cruel smile slips into a menacing smirk. "I want to see her bleed."

She recognizes him now, the deep set of his dark blue eyes, his straight aquiline nose, the sharp of his jaw. He's the brother of the girl she fought back during the games. Under his face is his name. "Paris 'The Blooding' Jones." Paris looks into the camera next, winks. "I'll be awaiting your response, Isabella."

Bella is quick to text her mom, eyes trained on a video of one of his qualifying fights. He's quick, lethal, but strong too and he uses that to his advantage. Paris's muscles ripple and bulge as he strikes out, like a snake - recoils so fast the camera man can hardly track his movements.

Bella texts her mom this: "Okay, you got yourself a match. I accept."

Renée says this in response: "I know."

* * *

Later, she's skimming through the _Iliad_, picking pages apart, highlighting when needed. Internally, she berates herself. If she had just ignored her phone ringing over the weekend, not picked up - she would have finished her reading and not have spent hours picking apart Paris Jones's fighting technique, making lists in her head about which foot he favors, his favorite moves, what he does when he gets scared during a fight.

"Ugh." Bella throws back her head, black inked words swirling around on the page. She puts her pen down, covering her eyes. It was starting to look like her essay wouldn't be done on time, anymore. She takes a breath in, out, and slowly recoils her body back to earth, back to the wooden table she's sat herself at. Another breath in, out and she opens her eyes.

And screams.

"God dammit, Alice!" Holding a hand to her heart, she shrinks under the glare of the librarian, and turns her attention back to the girl that hadn't been there moments before. Her hair was spiked perfectly, and slowly Bella watches her butterscotch eyes melt to black, watches how her hands tighten around the edge of the table, and then relax.

"Morning, Belly bear." Alice giggles with a wave of her fingers. "How are you today?"

"Well," Bella grumps, shifting in her chair. "I was doing fine until you gave me a heart attack."

"Oh, please," Alice rolls her eyes. "I did not." Her eyes glimmer a little when she speaks next. "Trust me."

Bella's eyebrows pick up at this, but she doesn't comment anymore. "Did you do this dumb essay for Mrs. Howard?"

Alice nods, careful eyes flicking over the splattering of Bella's pens, the various colored sticky tabs. "Sure did!" She chirps, smile never failing. Bella might think it were a little creepy if Alice wasn't so damn pretty.

"That shouldn't surprise me, I guess." Bella mumbles, placing her bookmark in between the pages. The Greeks had just rolled the horse into Troy. "What can I do for you, Alice?"

She shrugs. "Just wanted to talk to my best friend!"

"Best friend?" Bella tilts her head, watches how Alice's eyes grow darker. "Hey, can I ask you a question without you being mad?"

Alice scoffs, the smile briefly sliding off of her face. Bella watches as she focuses over her shoulder, face growing blank for a few seconds. And just as Bella opens her mouth to ask if everything is ok, Alice snaps out of it, an uncharacteristic irritated frown coming to her face - one Bella has seen many times on her blonde haired sister. "I promise I won't get mad." A beat. Two. "I'll tell you what." Alice starts after a few seconds have gone by. "Let's play a game."

Bella sits up in her seat, a little too interested. "A game?"

"Yes." Alice had noticed her sudden interest. "A game. I know how you love games, Bella." It starts getting hot, and quiet, suddenly, electricity tingles along her arms. Alice keeps staring, eye contact never ceasing. Bella bites her lip and tries to look away, succeeds only in staring down at her hands. "Okay, what's the game?"

"It's an easy one, don't worry." Alice bends her head, seeking Bella's eyes again. "I tell you something about me, and you tell me something about you."

The premise of this "game" doesn't really make sense, Bella will realize later. But in the moment it makes perfect sense, because Alice is staring at her and her eyes are wonderfully deep and Alice is wonderfully pretty and suddenly it's so hot that Bella can feel her hands shake, can feel the air buzzing around her, the hair on the back of her neck stand up. It's kind of how she feels before she enters the ring, an adrenaline dump. "Okay," it's a whisper when it falls from Bella's mouth, so she tries again, hopes it's stronger this time. "Okay." And really, with Bella locked into Alice's gaze, she has no choice but to accept.

Alice leans back in her seat, satisfied, and the intensity lessens to where Bella feels like she can breathe freely. "Good. I'll start." She takes a second to herself, head tilting back and forth, probably figuring out what she wants to reveal, Bella realizes. It hadn't occurred to her to pick and choose. Honestly, her plan was to tell this bizarre girl her entire life story.

"My favorite color is currently green." Alice grins at Bella, plucking at the collar of her own green blouse. "Um, my favorite subject in school is science, but I'm much better at english." Her fingers tap on the table. Bella follows the rhythm with her eyes. One, two, three. One…two…three… "I was adopted a few years ago," Alice continues, voice dropping a little lower, fingers stop tapping, and Bella's eyes are drawn back up to meet hers. Somewhere while she was talking, Alice had dropped her frequent smile. Gaze smoldering, burning.

The flames lick Bella when it's her turn to speak, voice sounding more robotic than the one she's trained to have in public. Her brain is fuzzy as she talks. "I was adopted too, actually." Alice's head tilts at this news. "Yeah, my dad and mom found me. A little bundle of blankets left on a hill in the forest - outside of Tacoma, actually. They were out camping."

"But you look so much like the Chief." Alice's fingers start to tap again. "Save for your eyes."

"My mother has light colored eyes."

"Grey? Like yours?"

Bella shakes her head. It feels like somebody packed it full of sand. "No, blue." She closes her eyes for a moment, tries to get her head out of the fog. "Alice. I think there's something wrong with me."

"Something wrong?"

"Everything is so hot," she explains. "My skin hurts. I think I'm dying."

"Bella." Alice's voice is a siren's call she can't ignore. "Bella. Eyes on me."

Bella follows this obediently, eyes immediately locking onto to black ones, to burning ones. Somewhere, under the weight of the fog, Bella rationalizes that Alice is the reason everything is so fuzzy, why it feels like she needs to start running.

"Alice. How come your -" Bella breathes through her nose, sways to the side. _Is this what being drunk feels like? _"How come your family's eyes change color around me?"

Alice stiffens for a moment."Next question, Bella."

"You said you wouldn't get mad."

"I'm not mad." A small smile. "Next question."

"Why do you guys hate me?" Bella sounds miserable even to her own ears. "I don't really know what I did - but I'm sorry." God, why can't she stop talking? She feels her voice warble, her throat get tight. "I'd like to apologize."

Through the haze, Bella can see Alice's eyes soften for a moment, a sad curve to the edge of her eyebrows. And Bella isn't sure if it's the fog, but she thinks she sees something like guilt flash across her face.

"It's like Edward said, Bella." Her voice is soft now, too, lost the intensity it's had. "Nobody in my family hates you."

"Then why-"

"My turn, Bella." Alice interrupts, and quickly leans over the table, closing the space between them. She's close enough that Bella can smell the sweetness coming off her breath. The heat worsens. And Bells shakes her head, shakes her arms, trying to shake whatever illness she had caught out of her. "Bella, listen to me. I need you to answer this." She gets closer still. "What are you?"

Bella's eyebrows furrow, deep in confusion. She can't seem to focus with Alice everywhere, all around her "What-"

A sharp, sudden ringing startles Bella out of the daze, leaves her gasping as if she'd been trapped under water for an extraordinarily long amount of time. Her hand flutters to her chest, chest heaving.

"Ah." Alice smiles ruefully. "Saved by the bell." She gets up, places her hand against Bella's shoulder. "I really am sorry, Bella." And leaves.

It's long after Alice has left, and it's long after Bella has caught her breath, and it's long after Bella has been staring at the pages of her book, that she realizes that Alice has said something _odd_.

"How did she know what Edward said to me?"

Bella doesn't see the Cullens for the next few days at school. That had been fine, for the most part, except she couldn't shake that experience she had with Alice. She had wanted to catch the shorter girl and apologize for being weird when they were talking, wanting to blame her drugged like behavior on bad food she ate that morning. In reality, it had probably - most likely - been a combination of lack of sleep, stress, Bella being stupid gay and Alice being stupid pretty. Unfortunately for her, Bella tended to lose her cool around girls. She guesses she's just glad it had been Alice, and not somebody as heart wrenchingly good looking Rosalie.

Bella grimaces when she imagines how the meeting would have gone with Rosalie instead of her sister. Would her "sickness" have gotten to be too much? Would she have been able to stop herself from crying right in front of the blonde? _Hell_, Bella decides, _just looking at her makes me want to cry. _

The line "what are you?" ricochets around in her head for days after. Bella doesn't _know, _simply. She's always been told how to act and who to be, always told when to snarl and reminded when to show her fangs. Had Alice been calling her out, had the girl she's only talked to for a few times clocked her facade? Had she seen past Bella's brilliantly put together smiles? It plagues her mind when she wakes up, when she goes to bed, and when she stares in the mirror, she asks herself the same thing. "What are you?"

Grey eyes stare back at her.

* * *

**Physically, it hurt me not to write Rosalie in this chapter. I miss my bitchy lesbian. **

**let me know your theories and thoughts! 3**

**also the title of this chapter means "fire tests gold" - the last one meant " i know not how to yield" **


	3. Oderint Dum Metuant

_Oderint Dum Metuant - let them hate as long as they fear _

* * *

_"I have seen every kind of woman - the storm, the burning chapel, the breeze. There are some who are the earth itself - a woman is the howls of Gaia - she is the one who bore the sky - you- the earth - who watches you pull her roots and drain her bare. Listen, you- lightning carrier - man who has fooled himself into being god. The cracks you made on her body are the same cracks she will bleed you into." - Salma Deera, Gaia_

* * *

Rosalie knows this about her family: Esme and Carlisle are bleeding, soggy, hearts that will always, always bleed into each other. She's suspected that they've loved each other long before their life times - that they loved each other while they were stardust stuck in the cosmos, and when they came down to earth, they found each other again. This is a fact she knows to be true. Rosalie knows that Emmett was born afraid and he still is now, he shakes with it, and over time it has morphed into anger, morphed into a strength he's learned to grow from. She also knows that he wishes he could eat human food again. She knows that Jasper still hurts from his war days. Hurts from the oppression he had a hand is, aches with that guilt, cries with it too. She's heard his muffled sobs on long nights one too many times. She knows he still hurts because every time he does a presentation in history, it's about slavery - about the lives lost and slaughtered and -

And when Jasper goes to hunt after these presentations, the carnage is irreversible.

Edward, too, hurts from his guilt. He still prays, every night, tries to atone for his sins - begs forgiveness from when he drank human blood, begs forgiveness for breathing, begs forgiveness for _loving_. Rosalie has told him before - _"That wasn't murder, that wasn't murder." _He doesn't listen to her.

And Alice… Alice is a girl lost, unstuck in time. Alice finds herself twirling through nebulas and the ache of something she doesn't know to miss. She'll ask Rosalie sometimes, about death and life, which came first for her.

Rosalie doesn't know. Will never know, probably.

She knows this about her family, and she knows that's what shapes their family meetings, each personality showing through the thinly veiled pretense of normalcy.

They don't pretend to be normal now, each member sits, back straight, their mouths moving fast and quick, worry shapes their hands on the face of the table.

Jasper is always one to state the obvious. "This is potentially a very dangerous situation for us."

Carlisle nods, soft and slow, eyeing his son across the table. "I understand. I'm just wondering what we should do about it."

Rosalie sits, jaw clenched, teeth grinding. To her, it's obvious about what should be done. She can see that others don't share her vision.

"Rosalie," Edward cuts in, irritation smeared through is tangled red hair, rubbed across his shoulders. "Please keep your thoughts to yourself." And when she cocks her head at him, the feeling very akin to _murder_ shakes her limbs. She takes great joy in imagining her ripping Edward's limbs off, beating him with his own arm. He flinches away from her, growl low under his breath.

"You, Rose, you of all people need to be quiet!" Alice turns towards her, upset. "You're my _sister, _I can't even believe that you're suggesting _that._"

Finally, Rosalie tosses her hands up, then crosses her arms over her chest. "Look, I'm saying as a _last resort_, not that we should jump right out of the bag with that. Plainly, Isabella Swan very well could mean death to our family - I'm not about to let some girl do that to us." A pause. "A human, nonetheless."

Emmett shifts uncomfortably in his chair. "I don't know, Rose…" His mouth twists. "Murder? I've never - I mean why can't we move?"

A deep sigh racks through Rosalie, one she feels in her bones. "If it comes to that - I'll do it. We all know that I'm not… squeamish."

"Yes." A hiss, sharp and short from Edward. "We know."

"Kids." Comes Esme's tired sigh. "Can you lighten up? Death isn't our only option-" This is directed towards Rosalie, who is currently scowling at Edward. "And trying to start a fight isn't the way to go about this." This time, her pointed remarks are shot towards Edward who sits with a petulant grimace. "We, at this time, are gathered here for _contingency, _okay? Nothing is set in stone."

Rosalie goes to open her mouth, closes it abruptly when Alice goes stiff, eyes go unfocused. She's back quickly, though, a frown on her face. "I don't even know whats a possibility at this point." Alice emphasizes. "I can't _see_ her."

"At all?" Carlisle asks, a curious glint in his eyes. One could never take the scientist out of him, it seems. "Like the wolves?"

"Kind of." Alice's voice still leaks frustration. "But she's not a wolf is the thing! She -"

"Smells _way_ too good to be a wolf." Emmet shudders, eyes growing black.

"And that's been an issue for you all?" Esme asks, "even you, Alice?"

"Yes." Guilt. "It's unbearable. I've never -" Alice cuts herself off, a sharp sigh, sharp and short and it's clear by the way that Alice's hands come to grip her own arm, she's thinking about Isabella's blood. "I've never smelled anybody like that. Ever."

"I almost killed her, the first time she walked into class." Edward winces. "If we hadn't have hunted the day prior, I think I would have. Her scent hit me all at once and, and it took every _single ounce _of strength in my body to not attack her."

Silence sits then, hot and heavy as each of the Cullens watch Edward stare off into space. Alice and Rosalie had been in class together when Alice had frozen, horror quick to take over her features. Alice has been in the family long enough for Rosalie to know how to get Alice out of that kind of situation, so she was fast to get her out of class, cited the nurse's office as their destination, then picked Alice up and ran to her car.

"Alice." Rosalie had whispered, hands soothing over the smaller girl's face. "Alice what do you see?"

"Edward." Alice had snapped out of her vision. "Edward is thinking about killing another student."

"It's worse for Edward than it is for any of us, Carlisle." Even now, thinking about Edward's thirst and emotions surrounding has Jasper wincing, hands going to rub his throat. "Which," he shifts towards Edward. "I am so sorry, brother. I would never be able to do what you have done."

"What's worse," Edward starts. "Is that I can't read her mind, either."

Esme shares a look with Carlisle, worried hands covering hers.

"The good news," Alice rubs at her eyebrows. "My _gaze _seems to work on Bella."

Emmett guffaws, holding his hand to his stomach, he wipes pretend tears away from his eyes. "Emmett! Hush up, it's not her fault!"

Rosalie tilts her head. That's interesting, to say the least. _Gazes _only work on humans when there's at least some level of attraction from the human. "Did you get anything out of her?"

Alice shrugs. "Mostly a lot of stammering and blushing." Emmett starts chuckling , and Alice reaches over to smack his arm. "But, she told me that she was adopted by Chief Swan and her mother."

"Really?" Emmett, again. "But, her and Charlie look related."

"That's what I said."

Carlisle spreads his hands wide. "What should we do then?"

Rosalie has a few ideas.

Edward speaks up again, breathing deeply through his nose. "Rosalie, I know that you're thinking of the family, but killing her would bring too much attention to us." At her dark glare, he continues. "She's an Olympic athlete, and right now a lot of eyes are on her. Think about what would happen if she disappeared."

To her disdain, she understands the point he's making. It _would_ bring a lot of attention to Forks, and ultimately, it would probably get back to the Volturi should too much unwanted attention surround the Cullens. Still, she pushes. "It may be hard for a few years, but humans forget."

"Not anymore they don't." Emmett shakes his head. "Do you know how many podcasts and YouTube channels are dedicated to solving crimes? They're still trying to figure out the Black Dahlia case."

"So then we move." Silence follows her suggestion. "You guys are kidding me, right?"

"Rose, I have a gut feeling that this girl is important to us."

"You have a _gut _feeling? I'm sorry if I'm not willing to risk my family's life on a gut feeling."

"It's clear to me what we should do." Alice ignores her, clasping her hands together. "We need to stay in Forks."

"That's _clear_ to you?" Rosalie hisses, teeth bared. "It's clear to me that I'm the only one thinking _clearly_ about anything."

"Dear," Esme places a hand on her arm, touch meant to be calming, but it only fuels Rosalie's frustration. "We shouldn't bet against Alice. She's never wrong, really."

"Great. So we have a girl whose blood sings to Edward, calls to all of us and Alice can't see if one of us is going to slip up and kill her, and we aren't moving away to save ourselves from the potential risk because Alice has a gut feeling." Rosalie stands, all but slams her chair into the table. Spiderweb cracks split the veneer. "So glad we moved back to Forks, really."

* * *

Carlisle sets provisions for them. They have to go hunting at the very least three times a week, preferably more if they felt like they needed it. "Edward, I would consider going every morning before school, if you think you'd be able to handle that."

"I'll try." He nods, a set frown to his face and Rosalie knows he's berating himself again. It's a struggle for her to not roll her eyes.

Rosalie goes by herself the next morning, before the sun fully breaks into the cloud bank. She considered not hunting today - she didn't have any classes with the girl. But then she thinks of the time she had passed Bella in the hallway, how her mouth had rotted with a heat she'd never known before, never wanted to know after, and decides it's probably a good idea.

As she tracks a bear, she thinks of the girl, how only her blood could possibly ever soothe the ache in her throat. And when she sinks her teeth into the bear, she imagines it is Bella's neck she's biting, the warmth under her mouth, soft flesh under her fingers. This hunt is messy, for the first time since Rosalie's hunted. Blood stains her shirt, sticky under her nails, at the corners of her mouth she can feel it flake off. She licks at it when she walks home, imagines it's the vanilla scent she'd encountered in the hallways. This is _dangerous_. Out of all of her siblings, she has the best control, undoubtedly, and if it's hard for her…

She doesn't want to think about the carnage.

* * *

Edward and Alice are in constant communication. Alice's eyes locked on his face, watching for his responses, Jasper's head is on the desk, arm up and over his head, and Emmett scrolls on his phone, leaving her to do surveillance, as always.

The girl is sitting downwind, hair down today - which actually helps quite a bit - and she's surrounded by her friends. The uptight Valedictorian to-be, the priest's daughter, and the blonde boy so horny he can hardly hide it, and then the Olympian sitting in the middle of it all, hands spread wide, mouth moving too quick to be anything intelligible, really. They all looked like somebody was about to make a comedy about them, and then towards the end the story line changes to a tragedy. In Rosalie's mind, the Newton boy would be the one dead.

"Whoa, holy shit guys." Emmett speaks, flipping his phone around to show them all the news article on their phone. "This is trending on Twitter."

Rolling her eyes, Rosalie scoots her chair closer to Emmett, and peers over his shoulder while Alice, Edward and Jasper arise from their pastimes and gather around Emmett, curious about what could possible be exciting him.

It's a news article from _CNN, _the headlines reads as: _Groundbreaking Olympian fighter Isabella Swan accepts Paris Jones's invitation. _Underneath the headline, there's a video that Emmett clicks on, turns up the volume.

It's Isabella, grey eyes glimmering, smile cocked and loaded, arrogance falls off of her every word. "Finally decided to join the big dogs, Jones?" Isabella readjusts, arms crossed over the table, as her biceps flexes, so does the olympic tattoo. It's a game of intimidation, a power move, one that says _"I'm so, so much more powerful that you could ever wish to be."_ The girl cocks her head to the side, smile sinister. "I accept your challenge. Ready when you are." She signs her message with a little kiss towards the camera before it shuts off.

"Damn." Emmett breathes out.

"You'll have to explain the significance, Em." Alice struggles, eyebrows furrowed. "Why is this trend-worthy news?"

"Paris Jones has been in the game almost a decade longer than Bella has, he's a legend." Emmett continues, clicking back to the Twitter page about Bella. "He's never been to the game but he is well, well known in the boxing world. For him to challenge Bella like that… wow."

Rosalie reads some of the comments underneath the news article.

_gold medalist isabella swan - gaythotticus · 2m _

_Replying to CNN_

I LITERALLY want her to snap me in half! We STAN a QUEEN

_Vanhorn - 24crossache · 1m_

_Replying to CNN, gaythotticus _

Did you see her muscles? She looks so good in a tank top oh my god I'm going feral

_trash panda · 2m _

_Replying to CNN_

HOLY FUCK SHE'S GOING TO WHAT! IM ON HTE FLOOR! PARIS JONES V. ISABELLA SWAN BOUTA BE THE FIGHT OF THE CENTURY! SHE'S SO SEXY OH YM GOD

Rosalie's brows furrow. Maybe it's the fact that she's so out of touch with social media, but she really hadn't realized how extensive Isabella's fanbase actually was. Emmett was right — nobody could _touch _her. She listens more closely now.

"Wait, so you're actually going to fight him? Is that even allowed in boxing?"

Isabella shrugs, tossing a tater tot into her mouth. "Sure. It's _rare. _But I won't be the first woman in history to fight a man in the ring." Taking a sip of water, she continues. "Margaret Macgregor versus Loi Chow was a really popular match. There are others. Anyways, it's not like I could say _no._ How would that have looked?"

"Well, are you nervous?" Angela asks, leaning over Mike. "I think that I would be."

"This is in my blood. Besides, I'm more than capable enough."

Definitely arrogant, Rosalie thinks, but then again, why shouldn't she be? Humans have always been in the pursuit of glory, and Isabella has reached it as a teenager. _Of course_ she would be inclined to some arrogance.

"Don't look now, Bella, but a Cullen is staring at you."

Snapping out of her thoughts, Rosalie regains focus and finds Isabella's grey eyes staring at her, a deep blush on her cheeks, hiding the faint freckles she has. Minutely, the girl's hand comes up in a wave, a hesitant smile coming to her face.

Rosalie frowns and turns away. _What an odd girl. _It's human instinct to turn away from her, and especially her family. But she gets along with Alice just fine, sometimes she will catch Emmett whispering a little joke to her. Edward is basically her best friend and she's enraptured whenever Jasper speaks in class. She doesn't shy around them at all, which, to Rosalie, must mean she isn't _human _at all.

All eyes are on her when she faces her family again.

"What?" A little defensive maybe, but she hadn't done anything wrong in the last few minutes.

"Good job, Rosalie." Alice sits back into Jasper's arms. "You've gone and upset her."

"What?" An indignant pause. "I didn't do anything."

Edward's gaze is fixed over her head, no doubt listening in. "She smiled at her and you … well, did you."

Rosalie listens back in, tilting her head in the direction of their table. _"Don't worry Bella, she's a bitch — it's not just you." _

_"I just don't know what I did wrong…" _

"Are all humans this sensitive?" Rosalie groans. "I sure as hell didn't mean to upset her."

"Mean not to, Rose."

Another groan sounds as the bell rings. Alice springs up and grabs Rosalie by the arm. "Maybe we should work on your social graces a little more."

"My social graces are fine," Rosalie's hand slips down to grab Alice's much smaller one. "I just don't know what she was expecting from me."

"Look Rose, obviously Bella isn't … _normal_, she's not going to react the way you'd want her to."

A frown pulls at Rosalie's mouth. How did she want her to react?

* * *

As it turns out, the need to hunt multiple times a week becomes needless as the girl has been flown back out to Arizona for the big fight. Its nice not feeling so heavy, so full of blood, but she supposes that's something she's going to have to get used to.

"She said they found her in the woods?" Esme asks, standing near the fridge, tossing out some of the rotting food from a dinner party she had hosted two weeks ago - a charity event.

"Yeah — isn't that a little weird to you guys?" Alice sits with her chin in her hands. "Like, it's." She tests the sentence out in her head before she speaks again. "it's kind of, I don't know, _mythical._" At the silence, she continues. "How many babies have you heard of being found in the woods that also have incredible strength and a weird relationship with glory?"

"Not many." Carlisle nods, washing up the dishes Esme hands to him. "Does she? Have incredible strength, I mean."

Emmett pipes up from the couch. "She's built, but not enough to have been able to rock a two-hundred and fifty pound man to the floor like she has before. I'd say she's got some power packed in that punch of hers."

"Interesting." Carlisle hums, folding himself back into his head to think. Rosalie watches as Edward listens in, facial expression flicking back and forth between bemused and surprised.

"She's fought a guy before?" Alice asks, surprised. "I thought that wasn't really a thing in boxing."

"This wasn't anything official." Emmett explains. "A guy had followed a girl into an alley and tried to mug her. Our shining hero tackled him to the floor and essentially beat him until he was unconscious."

"Holy shit."

"Alice! Language!"

The TV booms from behind them, an announcer starts to speak just as Emmett shushes them.

_"This fight has been hailed the fight of the century, Allen. What do you think?" _An older man with a younger man sits at a booth, microphones in their hands. A blown up image of a fighting ring sits behind them, the roar of fans threatens to drown them out.

_"I think that it will be a really interesting fight — we have two fighters who are undefeated in their own respects, both very skilled. Isabella is slight and fast, Paris is large and hard hitting, I think it's too close for me to confidently pick a side." _The man, Allen speaks, trying his hardest to be diplomatic.

_"I mean, I love Isabella, but Paris is stronger, been in the game longer, I think I'm going to place my bet on him." _The older one laughs his way through his reasoning, and Rosalie picks up a magazine, pretending not to be interested.

_"I suppose we'll see."_

"Emmett, did you bet on somebody?"

"Oh, yeah!" He holds up his phone, showing the bank transaction. "Bella all the way."

The music grows louder as the announcers sign off, and the camera pans over the crowd, the speakers blaring some awful rap remix of O Fortuna that she's not really interested in listening to. And by the way that Edward has his face, she knows he's not particularly pleased either. Red and blue lights start to dance, the light over the ring illuminates a brilliant blue. A voice booms.

_"Here he comes! Paris "The Blooding" Jones!" _

Out he strolls, silk robe loose around his shoulders, his muscles are already gleaming with sweat. His smile is big but his ego is bigger, evident by the way he tosses a few jabs towards the camera, the curls bouncing tightly around his ears. He blows a few kisses towards some of the girls screaming his name. The camera follows him while he climbs under the rope of the ring, starts to warm up by doing tawdry stretches clearly geared towards the girls in the arena.

The lights start to dim, the only light is the one right over the ring. The crowd is deadly silent.

_"Ladies and gentlemen. I present to you, the one, the only, the inimitable glory Isabella Swan." _

The lights flare on again, and the response from the audience is thunderous and it only increases when she walks out behind the back doors, clad in only a pair of shorts, a sports bra, and the gold medal gleaming around her neck. The audience drowns out the music, shakes the entire arena. Rosalie can see the ropes of the ring shake as she walks up to it, turns around and blows a kiss towards the camera. From behind her, signs are help up, multicolored and glittery in nature.

_I love you! Beat his ass! _

_YOU HAVE MY ENTIRE HEART, ISABELLA_

"Wow," Edward chuckles. "They're really not even there for him at all, are they?"

It seems not, especially as Bella smiles kindly at the announcer in the ring, takes the microphone out of his hands.

_"Hey guys," _The audience roars in response, she waits for it to quiet down again. _"Thank you all for coming out to see us tonight, it really means a lot!" _She blows another kiss, the five rings on her bicep seem to be highlighted in the white, glaring light. The screams are so loud Rosalie's momentarily worried that it's blown the sound system, it sounds like nothing but white noise.

"No, they really aren't." Emmett laughs, chest vibrating. "Look at Jones, he's fuming."

Rosalie means to shift her focus to Jones to check his face, to see how he's handling being the clear second choice to Bella. She can't seem to stop staring at the deep grooves of the girl's stomach, the tight back muscles as she turns around, the length of her powerful legs. She catches Edward's stare when she snaps out of her reverie and tosses him a glare in response.

The crowd continues on, somehow growing as their prized champion goes to greet Paris in the middle, to shake his hand. His smile is sickening, and Rosalie watches the way her shoulders tighten when Paris clearly grabs her hand just a little too hard to be friendly. Bella keeps her face blank, but the angered flush gives her emotions away when Paris's mouth keeps moving, and could only be spitting out insults to her. Ripping her hand away, she walks to her corner, hands clenching and unclenching. In the corner, a woman, blonde and tan takes her medal off of her neck and grabs her chin, forces her to make eye contact with her. The girl nods at whatever she says, and the woman brings her into a hug.

Rosalie, decidedly, doesn't like this woman very much, either.

A bell dings, both fighters get to their positions, and when it dings again, it's like watching a wildfire rip through the forest, destroy houses, taking no survivors. Bella moves quick, legs stretching and rebounding, tossing a few jabs when she gets the opportunity. She's untouchable, dancing around him, dodging out of the way of his heavy punches, sweat pooling down his back already, straightening out his curly mop on his head.

Bella is playing it smart, Rosalie realizes, tiring him out, making him throw his hardest punches now— she'll unleash when he's too tired to keep his fist raised.

The first round came and went quickly, just as the second round does. Paris finally gets a hit in towards the end of the second round, a hit to her stomach, one that makes the audience, including Esme and Alice, gasp. Bella recovers easily, seems to laugh around him.

Rosalie has long since put down the magazine.

Fast, quick, lethal. Both are very good at fighting, very good at calculating. Paris likes the counter blocks, and then toss a job in that same movement, and Bella has learned to adapt, jumps away as soon as her fist makes contact to his jaw, his abdomen, his shoulder. She always has one ready for him when he recovers, sending him sprawling again.

It isn't long before Paris grows tired, before he grows hot and and angry and his throws are slowing down — it's a cycle that makes him even angrier. Isabella dances around him, gets behind him, two jabs to the side before he can turn around. He screams, and suddenly Bella's well rehearsed dance is interrupted as she looks at him in surprise. He takes his opportunity to punch at her head, hits her in the temple. The force knocks her to the ground just as the end of the round sounds. The woman from the corner rushes to her, sits Bella up. Bella is quick to shake her head, push her off and stand. The camera zooms in on her shaking out her limbs.

_"Okay." _Rosalie reads her lips. _"So, we'll play it that way, then." _

The next round starts, and Paris is feeling more confident than he did before, his arms are looser, the smile back on his face.

Bella isn't smiling.

She waits until Paris tosses another jab, waits for his exposure, and then hits him in the stomach. Hard. He chokes, kneeling now, trying to catch his breath back. The crowd cheers as she steps back, hands up to her face, elbow locked back in. It takes a minute or two for Paris to get back up, holding his stomach. When he does, something glints in his eye that has Rosalie clenching her teeth. It's an evil glint, one she's seen before in the eyes that appeared in that alley all those nights prior, the one she's seen in every other man she's caught leering at her in the half century. Paris is going to hurt her, and it's going to hurt bad.

He lumbers to his full height. The crowd, for once is silent for the first time since the match started. They know this is the endgame, the way animals act when death is about to happen.

Rosalie finds herself sitting on the edge of the couch, hands gripping the edge tightly.

Bella stands tall, too, shoulders taut, feet staggered. Surprisingly, she's the one that throws the first punch of the new round. It catches the edge of his jaw and she's quick to toss another jab to his rib cage. But he's angry now, screaming again, long gone is the cool he's exhibited before. He throws his punches, too, both hit her in the face, but she's quick to dodge out of the way, out from under him.

When he turns around, straightens to his full height again, hell is unleashed.

One, two, three, four. Her arms are moving too fast for the camera to keep track of. He starts to walk back towards the rope, hands covering his face. But Bella is glowing, grey eyes turned to steel. She punches his hand out of the way, makes a solid punch to his nose, blood starts to pour like a fountain.

Another one, another one, she's lethal, tightly tuned, eyes sharp. Three jabs to his abdomen. He slumps to the ground, on all fours and Bella quickly swipes a few more until a referee drags her back. She stops fighting immediately, hands to her face, jumping up and down on the tips of her toes.

Up close, Paris starts heaving, eyes rolling into the back of his head. He falls over and his body hitting the hard mats is the loudest thing in the arena.

In the distance, somebody is counting down from ten. Rosalie's eyes are locked onto the girl whose eyes are narrowed to slits, gloves covering her face.

_"TKO!" _

The audience's screams shake their own TV, pushing the limit of their sound system.

"It looks like he got his wish." Edward says, watching as Isabella throws off her gloves, her fist held in the air.

"What?" Rosalie tears her eyes away from the screen, to him, and then back to the screen. "What are you talking about? His wish to lose?"

"No. He made her bleed."

On the screen, Bella is smiling, loud and white. She goes to wipe at her mouth, and her hand comes away with golden smears.


End file.
